Ensouled Overlord v3
by Fundamental Diogenes
Summary: {Version 3 - WiP} A retelling and exploration of Overlord. What if Ainz had the mind suggested by his god-tier stats, packaged with the emotional, human soul of Suzuki Satoru? What if Demiurge, Albedo, and Pandora's Actor were smarter than Maruyama gives them credit for? Enjoy!
1. Preface

**PREFACE**

* * *

Welcome to Ensouled Overlord v3!

This fan-fiction represents the culmination of several years' worth of ideas and theories that have bounced around inside my head since I first watched the Overlord anime adaptation. I tried putting pen to paper earlier this year; unfortunately, I was severely de-railed for just about the same reasons as everyone else, these days. Honestly, that first attempt was haphazard at best, and did not deserve to be continued.

This time around, I intend to organize and prepare my writing much more seriously. You are currently reading the publication for Volume 1 of Ensouled Overlord v3, which is divided into three chapters, each with ten parts. I won't reveal any plans for the story aside from what I put in the description, but everything is coming together nicely thus far.

If you think of any pointers or advice, I encourage you to send them my way. As always, I read every review and direct message. I look forward to hearing what you all think!

~ Fundamental Diogenes ~

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

* * *

Ensouled Overlord is a transformative work, or fan-fiction, broadly founded on the setting of the Overlord series of light novels written by Maruyama Kugane (丸山くがね) and published by enterbrain (エンターブレイン) in Japan. The author considers this work "fair use" of Maruyama's intellectual property under the United States Copyright Act of 1976. The author reserves copyright on all original elements of Ensouled Overlord.

Copyright © 2020 by Fundamental Diogenes (Pseudonym)

All rights reserved.

This work or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a critical review.


	2. VOL1 - Prologue

She was running. Sprinting, gasping, leaping over roots and bursting through brambles, desperately clinging to her younger sister's arm, slick with perspiration. Slipping, slipping…

Eyes blurred, stinging with sweat, Enri Emmot risked a sidelong glance at Nemu. The juvenile girl's chest convulsed furiously, her legs racing spastically in a terrified attempt to keep up. Behind them, she could hear the rhythmic cacophony of heavy armor clanking as several knights gave chase. She could hear their labored breathing. Close - so close.

* * *

"_Enri, run!" her father screamed._

_The knight's steel poleyn drove into his thigh. Something cracked. It was loud._

_Her father fell to the ground, shrieking, one leg brutally contorted beneath him. He wrenched his head to look at her, standing, not 10 feet away, helpless…_

"_TAKE NEMU! RUN! RU-hk."_

_His breath caught, eyes bulging as blood spattered erratically from his nose and mouth. The armored knight stood over him, its longsword plunged into her father, staking him to the ground._

_Enri remained stock-still, shocked. She felt a pressure beneath her ribs - Nemu had buried her face in Enri's smock. Among the screams and bellows of Carne Village being murdered, she could hear faint sobbing coming from her waist. __The butcher, the evil, villainous knight, its shining armor sprinkled with the blood of her family, placed its boot on her father's corpse, and wrenched at the longsword. It came free with a nauseating squelch._

_Enri took a step back. She could almost feel waves of malevolent glee rolling towards her, as the armored figure hefted its longsword._

_The knight advanced a step._

_Enri grabbed Nemu's arm, and ran._

* * *

The bloodied, scratched girls stumbled through a final patch of undergrowth, and found themselves standing on a wide, cleared path. Heaving for breath, Enri paused, for an infinitesimal moment, frantically struggling to recall the interconnected network of byways surrounding Carne Village.

As miniscule as her pause was, it was too long.

She felt a searing pain arc across her back, from fragile shoulder blade to mid-spine. It was a deep laceration, carved into her flesh by the far-reaching point of a knight's steel longsword.

Enri fell to her knees, collapsing atop Nemu, desperately attempting to shield her sister. Her vision clouded, and she could feel the pulse of her heartbeat in her eyes, face, skin, ears, lips, teeth, fingernails, hair. Everywhere there were and were not nerves, she could feel pain, and the death march of her heart's final cadence.

"Tch." A muffled noise of disappointment emanated from the shrubbery.

Two knights pushed their way into the cleared path, one raising the longsword it had cleaved in a botched attempt at murder.

Darkness bloomed in her vision. Nemu started crying.

_Hmm… I'm dying, I guess… _Enri mentally tittered. _Look, I can even see the face of death, coming to greet me._

Indeed, within the darkness overtaking her sight, a skeletal figure was drifting towards her. Draped in a rich academic gown and wielding a radiant golden sceptre, Death advanced, drawing ever nearer.

Until, that is, the darkness receded. The figure - Death? - gently descended to the packed dirt, soundlessly resting on solid ground.

The figure clicked its bejeweled skeletal fingers together, and something happened. For a moment, Enri wasn't sure _what_, exactly, happened - it was too surreal to comprehend.

Nemu stopped crying. The knights stopped clink-clanking. The leaves stopped rustling. The birds stopped chirping. The far-off villagers stopped screaming in the throes of mortality. The world was still.

Then, Death spoke.

"Enri Emmot of Carne Village."

She nodded, dumbfounded.

"It is nice to meet you," the being articulated in its rich, cultured tones. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown."


	3. VOL1 - Chapter 1, Part 1

**Chapter 1 - Revelations**

Part 1 - Reality Astir

* * *

Momonga shifted restlessly on the Throne of Kings. Work required him to wake up before 4 AM tomorrow; he would need to sleep immediately after the YGGDRASIL servers shut down to avoid consequences to his livelihood.

How pitiful he was. These were the final, closing moments of the greatest chapter of his life, and he was spending them pondering such pointless chaff.

Momonga sighed, finally shifting to a demure, regal pose. He wouldn't go out with a bang, but at least his character could face its demise in style. Yes - the Overlord known as Momonga would die, in…

He expanded his watch's UI widget.

[23:59:35]

…under a minute, now.

Suzuki Satoru had suppressed any thought of how he would carry on living. Perhaps he, too, should meet his end… Melodrama aside, what would life even mean, without YGGDRASIL? To Satoru, who has dedicated most of his adult life to the game, what _could_ it mean?

[23:59:48]

Momonga knew what was coming. He closed his eyes.

[23:59:59]

The countdown finished. He waited for the curtains to fall on his fantasy world.

He waited for the automatic logout.

[00:00:00]

* * *

**CORONER'S REPORT**

CID: 2139-0000006

Name: SUZUKI Satoru

Residence: U8153 Myōgi Plaza, City of Providence, Tokyo Outland

DoB: 7 SEP 2103

Sex: M

Place of Death: U8153 Myōgi Plaza, City of Providence, Tokyo Outland

Time of Death: 1 JAN 2139 00:02

Type of Death: Natural Origin

Cause of Death: Acute Cerebral Infarction

Next of Kin Notified: {Not Applicable}

Notes: Report generated by EXCELMED® X-Series AutoCoroner4®

* * *

Sebas Tian had never found an opportunity to visit the Throne Room.

He manned the final defensive bastion on the Ninth Floor of Nazarick, along with the Pleiades Six Stars. Sebas couldn't conceive of deserting his post; such would be treason against the Supreme Beings. Long ago, he'd been charged by his creator, the World Champion Touch Me, with numerous ancillary duties, but they had never carried him outside the purview of his floor.

Today, however, Guildmaster Momonga had seen fit to order Sebas and the Pleiades to attend him. For this, the humble butler would be forever grateful. Not only had they been granted the opportunity to observe the marvelous works of the Tenth Floor, but now, incredibly, the inner sanctum of the Supreme Beings - the Throne Room itself - was exhibited before their reverent admiration.

'Room' was something of a misnomer. 'Hall' may be somewhat more accurate, but still would not suffice to encompass the impressive magnitude of Nazarick's Throne Room. Perhaps twenty paces across, and thrice that long, it was beyond palatial.

_The floor was a titanic, unbroken slab of Relic-class black marble, inlaid with enchanted polyhedral onyx and sheets of whorling cinereal agate, upon which rested a rich and intensely crimson carpet runner. The walls, paneled white marble trimmed in Legacy-class celestial ore, were draped in similar crimson tapestries, broken by forty-one duplicate copies of the Column of Agamemnon, a rare raid drop from the third tier of Hell. Hanging from mithril poles affixed to each column were forty-one flags, each emblazoned with the personal crest of one of the forty-one members of the guild, Ainz Ooal Gown. Several grand chandeliers were suspended from the cross-vaulted ceiling, magnificently crafted from a myriad of polished celestial ores and cut gemstones._

_Paramount, however, was the Throne of Kings. A monumental, imposing construction whose appearance truly epitomized the title "World-Class Item," the Throne of Kings possessed not only its nominal seat, but, also, masterfully carved from the same black material, a colossal aureola and nimbus. These symbols of sovereign divinity stretched to the furthest corners of the room, securing the throne as the indisputable centerpiece even in a chamber as magnificent as this._

Sebas' keen eye had observed these things in the concise span of time available while following Momonga through the room. Of course, once the guildmaster had assumed his throne, Sebas had fallen to one knee in genuflection, as was right and proper. He was joined in this by the Pleiades Six Stars and the NPC Guardian Overseer of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Albedo, who had been dutifully manning her post in the Throne Room when they arrived.

Now, he was attentively awaiting command from the final Supreme Being. Momonga had mumbled several times; however, as he hadn't vocalized any orders, Sebas simply ignored the murmurs. He couldn't relate to most other NPCs who hung on the Supreme Beings' every word. He considered that to be rude, an invasion of privacy, and certainly unbecoming of any servant.

He hadn't been waiting long - perhaps a quarter of an hour - before Sebas became acutely aware of subtle noises of discomfort emerging from his left. It was blasphemy to display such weakness before any Supreme Being, much less the guildmaster on his throne - but he held his tongue. If the offender had been a Pleiades Battle Maid, Sebas would be obligated to chastise them immediately, as they were under his direct command. However, the being to his immediate left was Albedo.

As Sebas technically wasn't a Floor Guardian, but rather the Head Butler, he fell outside her authority in administrative matters. Though Albedo wasn't formally his supervisor, he would abstain from antagonizing her before the guildmaster. As long as she didn't become unsightly, that is…

Sebas occupied his time with a detailed examination of the floor. It would only be appropriate for the Head Butler of Nazarick to be fully acquainted with the rooms under his jurisdiction. Indeed, he was ashamed that his knowledge of the Tenth Floor was severely lacking. Clearly, if Albedo was here, some of the tomb's homunculus maids must attend to her at one point or another. Information regarding the Throne Room had to be in circulation amongst Pestonya's subordinates within his domain, and he neglected to observe it…

_How unbecoming of me._

Sebas was sorely tempted to pull at the silver of his beard in thought. However, it would have been grievously inappropriate, so he refrained.

_I must redress this injustice by distributing the knowledge I have gathered today amongst the butler corps. We must strive to appreciate the works of the Supreme Beings, so that we may better serve them upon their return. Such is our duty, our purpose, and the greatest wish of our hearts…_

His thoughts drifted. He was almost startled when, abruptly, Albedo shot up from her knee.

As this was absolutely contrary to her usual graceful poise, legendary among the denizens of Nazarick, Sebas immediately concluded that something was amiss. He cast a sidelong glance her way, and observed that she faced not towards the door, where any potential threat would be forced to enter, but rather towards Guildmaster Momonga.

_This room is impregnable to all assailants. Still, an overabundance of caution may be necessary._

"Pleiades," he intoned in the refined voice of an elderly butler, "Phalanx-Echo."

The six Battle Maids accompanying him, Yuri Alpha, Lupusregina Beta, Narberal Gamma, CZ2I28 Delta, Solution Epsilon, and Entoma Vasilissa Zeta, wordlessly stood and sprinted towards the door. He had, in their system of nomenclature, commanded them to hold the main entrance at any cost. If the worst had happened, and Nazarick had fallen, their lives might provide an extra few seconds to prepare.

Meanwhile, Sebas himself rose, deactivating the first tier of his racial limiter. Shadow cloaked his right eye socket, and his stature seemed to grow from stooping butler into a solid and imposing man. This transformation wasn't for mere show, releasing 50% of his innate resistances and natural durability. One-shot killing or crippling him was now nigh-impossible.

"Albedo," he questioned in a voice like iron, "what disturbs you?"

The succubus, normally pale like the moon, was now whiter than any living thing Sebas had ever seen. Wordlessly, she gestured, pointing at Guildmaster Momonga.

Following her gaze, he observed the Supreme Being. It was unquestionably odd that he hadn't already censured them for their irreverence. Momonga simply remained demurely seated on the Throne of Kings, holding the _Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown_ in one hand, with the other situated calmly on the armrest.

_What am I overlooking?_

Albedo conveniently answered his thoughts.

"his… his eyes!" she whispered shakily. "look! _look!_"

Sebas looked.

Momonga's eyes were empty sockets. They lacked the vermilion glow of unlife, of his Overlord soul. What rested on the Throne of Kings were mere bones.

* * *

_**mngsm… momng-sam…**_

_Ugh… Such a vexatious racket. Snooze, please._

_**momonga-sama…**_

_Momonga… That's… my name? Who calls for me?_

The Overlord cracked an eye.


	4. VOL1 - Chapter 1, Part 2

Part 2 - Ainz Ooal Gown

* * *

Momonga groggily processed the sight before him.

Albedo, NPC Guardian Overseer of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, lay weeping at his feet. Kneeling beside and consoling her was Sebas, the Iron Butler.

_A dream? I haven't dreamt in ages…_

He peered around.

They were in the Throne Room of Nazarick, and he was seated on the Throne of Kings. Momonga could just quite make out the Pleiades Six Stars near the room's magnificent bronze doors. Yuri Alpha, vice-captain of the battle maids, was veiled in a scarlet aura, and Momonga instinctively understood that she was undead.

_Hmm, is that [Undead Blessing]? This dream is __**really **__realistic. Hold on, am I my YGGDRASIL avatar?_

The overlord squinted down at himself.

_Uh, yeah, nothing but bones… Talk about a warped self-image. Anyways, am I supposed to be dead, or something?_

As if to answer him, Albedo devolved from soft crying to wailing.

"Momonga-sama!" she bawled. "How could you leave us… Me! How could you leave _me_!"

_This is one creepy dream. Do I have a fever?_

Albedo curled around his legs, wrapping her arms around them and squeezing through his academic gown with brutal force.

_Ow. owowOW__**OWTHATHURTS!**_

Sebas gripped her shoulder. "Albedo," he intoned with some hostility, "do not disrespect the name of the leader of the Supreme Beings."

She relaxed her grip, sobbing.

_So, yeah, not a dream_, Momonga pondered, now thoroughly awake. _Not a dream… __**Oh my god. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK.**_

He was on the cusp of hysteria when the affable voice of an elderly butler interrupted his thoughts.

"Forgive me, but are you Momonga?" it inquired.

The overlord refocused his vision. At a safe distance before him stood Sebas, his racial limiter wholly deactivated and in full dragonoid form. Though he retained the traditional uniform of a butler, his stature had evolved into that of a powerfully built man, and the skin of his face shone, covered in thousands of tiny scales.

_Uh. Um. What? No! Maybe? Well… Wait, when did you get over there? Also, you can transform? Really, now… Ah, I need to answer. I must choose my words carefully, I guess._

"Perhaps," Momonga affirmed in the rich and cultured tones of his overlord avatar. He could feel Albedo's diabolical eyes boring into him from her position at his feet.

The shadow cloaking the dragonoid's right eye destabilized, exuding wisps and filaments of pure darkness that dissipated in the air around him. The silence stretched.

"Please, do not trifle words with me," Sebas finally requested.

_Well, considering that __**I have no fucking clue what's going on**__, you'll just need to settle. Though, I suppose I should refrain from antagonizing him. Let's see… Assuming my memory is sound, I was, until now, a human by the name of Suzuki Satoru, who merely role-played as the overlord Momonga. Hmm, these memories may be fabricated. Who am I to say who I am?_

_Regardless, I cannot conceive of the slightest explanation for how I have come here. All possibilities involve the paradoxical transfer of information through time. This is weird. Really, really weird. But, I __**am **__here now, in the body of my YGGDRASIL avatar. The transfer of my consciousness appears to have occurred at the moment of the server shutdown on Earth. Maybe that means I am Momonga, to some extent…_

"I have been called Momonga. I am unsure of whether I am _your_ Momonga."

Sebas cocked his noble head in curiosity. "Are you of another plane?" he asked blandly.

_Yes! Exactly! Probably! Though, not in the manner that you might expect… I'll need to cook up something good to explain myself, or Sebas might just attack me as an imposter - which could prove fatal. I don't even know if I can use magic. I might not even be who I think I am; with magic involved, anything goes._

_It's much more probable that my entire past is some bizarre invention, as opposed to my consciousness having somehow transcended dimensions… But this is idle supposition. I must acquire facts to consider before drawing premature conclusions. In any case, here goes…_

"Most likely," Momonga professed, projecting much more confidence than he felt. "I am, in a sense, the root being behind your guildmaster. Consider my past presence in this world an avatar, a mere extension of my will that I created as a tool."

Sebas seemed to ponder his words for a moment, before his shoulders sagged. "This is beyond me," he mumbled, re-imposing his racial limiter. He seemed to shrink at least a foot before Momonga's very eyes, returning to the form of an aging servant.

"Nevertheless," he continued, kneeling, "your words ring true to my ears. Please forgive my transgression… my lord."

"Ah, you may continue addressing me as Momonga."

"Of course, Momonga-sama."

The overlord heard a sniffle. He peered down at his legs, where Albedo had buried her face in his robes.

"Albedo…" He trailed off.

"mmng-sma" was her muffled reply.

_Oh, no… This must be the change I made to her settings just before the shutdown. Just how attached is she? Tabula-san, please tell me you didn't make her emotionally dependent…_

He audibly sighed. Being ripped from his own world and deposited into some kind of YGGDRASIL-esque parallel dimension was well enough, on its own. There's no way that he'd start babying an emotionally unstable succubus on top of that. As much as Peroroncino-san might _love_ to be in this situation, Momonga was having none of it.

_I suppose I should cut her some slack. They must have though I was dead, after all… And, as loyal subordinates, grief would be natural. Unless, of course, it's all subterfuge, and I'm being played for a fool. Well, let's see if she's willing to open some distance between us._

"Albedo," he began anew, with as much patience as he could muster. "Please compose yourself."

She slowly rose, first to her knees, then to her feet. With a wan smile, she wordlessly retreated several paces behind Sebas, and gently knelt.

"You may remain sta-... Oh, never mind," Momonga recanted. "Anyways… Sebas, how did you notice my reanimation? I don't recall having done anything to indicate wakefulness."

"Your eyes, Momonga-sama," the butler replied, raising his head. "I had been observing them for activity."

_Ah, yes, the telltale glow of unlife_, the overlord mused, lightly brushing his sharp cheekbone with long, ring-laden fingers. _But, that doesn't explain… _

"Why did you question my identity? How could you know?"

"Please, a moment," Sebas requested, withdrawing a small metal disc from a pocket inside his tailcoat. He unclasped it, and the disc popped open into a clamshell mirror. He wordlessly offered it to Momonga.

Understanding, the guildmaster accepted the proffered mirror, and lifted it to view his reflection. He immediately noticed what had so troubled the Iron Butler - the glowing points in his eye sockets, symbolizing his overlord soul, were not a deep vermilion, as usual. They were green. And a lively, verdant green, too, not the pale, sickly jade associated with the phylactery of an Elder Lich.

_How odd… Green is emblematic of life, growth, fertility… The antithesis of an overlord. What does this mean?_

Momonga tilted the mirror, examining himself from several angles. At least the world-class item in his ribcage was still a lush crimson; hopefully, its function remained equally unchanged.

_Do I possess a human soul? Am I Suzuki Satoru? Is that what it means? But, really… Who am I?_

Momonga shut the mirror, carefully hitched the clasp, and replaced it into the butler's gloved hand.

_More importantly, is any of this even real? It's just so unbelievable. Assuming that I have been transported to YGGDRASIL, at the helm of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, I possess power and wealth beyond the greatest dreams of any mortal, even among the Executives of Earth. This is potentially marvellous. I wonder… Were other players transported too? Are th-_

Sebas interposed on his thoughts with a request to speak.

"Go ahead," the overlord allowed. He required a moment to simply cogitate, but he also couldn't alienate a potential ally among all the unknown factors of his circumstance. His thoughts and conduct had been solely reactionary, and he couldn't proceed much further without analysis. However, Sebas' words would add substance to his deliberations, on top of maintaining a friendly atmosphere.

"Your apotheosis is cause for cheer throughout Nazarick," the butler began. "The arrival of a being greater than the leader of the Supreme Beings is joyous news."

"However," Sebas continued with a note of steel in his voice, "not all will be as accepting of you as I am." His eyes flicked for a nigh-undetectable moment to where Albedo stood behind him. "Many will require a greater explanation. Many will doubt that there could be beings greater than our creators. Many will ask: who are you?"

"While I am certain of your truthfulness, I cannot be your sole advocate. You must convince the Floor Guardians of the Great Tomb of Nazarick of your identity. I mean no offense; however, unfortunately, the account you have provided me with will not suffice for many of them. For your sake, please consider this matter in detail."

The Head Butler of Nazarick inclined his head, and said no more.

_Yes, I must think of this logically. Who am I?_

Momonga shifted on his throne, the throne that he had earned long ago, in another life. He settled with his skull on his hands, jagged chin resting on curled fingers, and thought. He pondered. He contemplated.

_I am not Suzuki Satoru. I still __**feel **__human, and I think like Satoru, but my mind has been… elevated? Altered, to be sure. I understand now that his life was worthless, one rusted cog in a decrepit and abandoned machine, and I don't want to embody that product of Earth._

_I am not Momonga. That avatar was merely a limited embodiment of my era in YGGDRASIL. As much as the times I spent as Momonga define my happiness, they do not define me. According to the Eclipse flavor text, I decided who died. I don't want to casually end the lives of others. Role-playing cannot become my entire existence._

"You are correct. I failed to define myself, in part because I was uncertain of my own existence. The transition between dimensions challenged my perception."

_I am human at heart. I am undead in body. I cannot abide deciding who dies… No, in the name of those who I desire to save, save from the living grave of Earth, I will decide who __**lives**__._

"However, I have determined…"

_In the name of… those who I desire to save… Yes._

"...my identity."

_I am the embodiment of us all. The one who can actually make a difference. The one who will do good in the world, whatever that world may be. The one to sound the trumpets and call together the guild, once again._

"I am Ainz Ooal Gown."


	5. VOL1 - Chapter 1, Part 3

Part 3 - Embracing Command

* * *

His words hung in the air.

While the newly-minted Ainz Ooal Gown was certain that assuming such a pretentious identity would strategically enhance his plan, success was not guaranteed. Countless variables remained unexamined, many of which posed a significant hazard to his ambition. Regardless - the gamble had to be made.

Becoming a symbol of the guild was as calculated as it was sentimental. By defining his identity as one that demanded obedience from all of Nazarick, the NPCs' individual loyalties notwithstanding, he could buy time to maneuver. Indeed, without the shackles of shitty code, there remained a serious possibility that some may exercise free will and rebel against him.

Ainz accepted that risk, and, along with it, the need to assess his situation in detail. As long as his title stood, to betray him would be to betray the guild. Hopefully, no NPC would be so brazen on their own. He would need to curtail their ability to communicate independently of him, or at least restrict the flow of information. If the Level 100 NPCs of Nazarick collectively determined that he was a fraud, he was doomed.

Meeting with them as individuals to attain support was the best course of action. While Ainz abhorred bondage of mind or body, and would never treat the NPCs as mere tools, he needed to keep Nazarick together. By his leadership, its unity would be ensured.

Ainz had discovered in himself a drive greater than any he'd ever known before. For once, in all the memories and experiences enveloped by his new consciousness, he controlled the power to **do**. To change, to create, to destroy. To relive that golden age, a world away and years past…

This moment was the juncture of his future, the point that could either escalate into brilliant glory or careen into an abrupt demise.

Albedo, surprisingly, was the first to acknowledge his declaration. Unbidden, she raised her head, her devilish golden eyes boring into him. Despite her earlier outburst, they were clear, intelligent, and calculating.

In such a tense situation, Ainz didn't know what to expect from himself. Suzuki Satoru would have been sweating rivers, but the overlord understood that expressing any form of anxiety could only harm his position, and simply maintained control of his body. Indeed, 'staying cool' was simplicity itself, lacking as he did any involuntary organic mechanisms.

Finally, the succubus spoke.

"The Guardian Overseer, Albedo, recognizes Ainz Ooal Gown-sama, the absolute Master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick," she announced passionately, asserting her sincerity with heart rather than eloquence.

Ainz was sorely tempted to laugh - whether from delight, or nerves, he was uncertain. Regardless, on the basis of propriety, he restrained himself.

_Perfect. Such a simple statement, to mean so much. She doesn't even seem to be lying. Then again, she's a succubus. Lying is in her blood… heh, in more ways than one, actually._

Sebas raised his head, promptly following her declaration with his own.

"The Head Butler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Sebas Tian, recognizes Ainz Ooal Gown-sama, the unassailable Master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick," he proclaimed solemnly.

_Hmm, he doesn't seem to be the enthusiastic sort, so I can understand the decorum. Still more trustworthy than Albedo, at any rate. He hasn't recalled the Pleiades from the doorway, implying that my best interests are still at the forefront of his thoughts._

_What's with the cookie-cutter responses, though? Not even the settings maniac Tabula-san would actually program something like that. Was Sebas merely following Albedo's lead? I wonder to what extent the NPCs share common knowledge and understanding… I still need to determine the precise nature of my… apotheosis?... yes, that'll work._

_Were the characters of Nazarick sentient before the server shutdown? Is this a parallel dimension, or a new one? Hmm, and I've been assuming that I'm actually __**in**_ _YGGDRASIL; perhaps this is something entirely novel._

_Ack, too many questions for now. I'll address them as I can._

"Excellent," Ainz affirmed. "Your loyalty delights me, but even more so the flexibility to recognize my primacy."

"The creations of the Supreme Beings would never disappoint their master," Sebas swiftly asserted.

"We exist to execute their will," Albedo carefully added.

Ainz eyed the succubus.

_Ooh, yeah, that's a red flag. Well, naturally, she wouldn't trust me quite yet… Hmm. I need to exit this room with her complete support, or she'll undermine me at every turn. Albedo must endorse me, whether she accepts my identity or not._

_These two refer to my guildmates as "supreme beings," as if we were deities. It just so happens that I possess plenty of information about these "gods." The carrot…_

"I wonder," Ainz pondered aloud, "what you truly know about my comrades?"

He paused, just long enough to provoke thought, but not anger.

"Like me, all of the players in our guild transcended mere avatars. We were planeswalkers. As a matter of fact, we all hail from the same world."

He detected a sharp intake of breath from the succubus, and, moments later, from Sebas. Ainz mentally grinned. Though his expressionless skull couldn't assume such a biological emotive arrangement, he might have detected a faint green glow bathing the scene before him.

"Yes, I say 'hail' - present tense. They yet survive, though they had retreated to our homeworld some time ago."

…_and, now, the stick…_

"However, I know not how to reach them. My full presence came to this world unbidden, as I am certain you have surmised. My mission - the mission of Nazarick - is to reinitiate contact, wherever they may be. If possible, we will bring them here…"

Ainz had a thought as he regarded the astonished faces of the NPCs.

"...or, if all else fails…"

By now, they were illuminated with a green radiance that seemed to emit from Ainz himself.

"We will go to them."

* * *

**A/N**

Thank you all for the feedback! Even though I write at an abominably slow pace, and publish in meager increments, your support has been, in a word, awesome.

I will refrain from encumbering Ensouled Overlord with frequent or verbose author's notes, but I wanted to publish a special thank-you for a few individuals:  
hakon2feb and Lord of Forgetfulness for beta reading these last two parts, a few Shitfic Slayers and members of the Usual Gang of Drunken Perverted Idiots for taking a look at EO, and yveltadarkrai3 for general assistance. You're all amazing.

~Fundamental Diogenes~

22 4 22 24 10 4 4 12 17 3 22 4 16 4


	6. VOL1 - Chapter 1, Part 4

Part 4 - Divine Right

* * *

The NPCs were floored - eyes unfocused and gazes empty as they came to terms with Ainz's words. Sebas, in particular, seemed unsteady on his knee, while Albedo's tribulation appeared to remain cognitive.

Though his words were intended solely to motivate them, and help cement his position as the Master of Nazarick, Ainz found himself fairly moved. If, somehow, he _could_ bring together the forty-one, he wouldn't hesitate at the opportunity. Hell, if magic was in play, he might even be able to save them all from the desolate husk of a world that Suzuki Satoru had called home…

_No, no. Shelve that. I must focus on the here and now._

_First and foremost, what is this green illumination? I cannot perceive any shadows of the light; therefore, it must emit from my line of sight - my eyes. Well, whatever qualifies as 'eyes' in this body. Perhaps the glow in the orbits of my skull becomes stronger as I experience powerful emotion?_

_Ah, well, merely one more question to examine - in due time, of course. In the meantime, I think I'll press my advantage._

"Come now," Ainz chastised diabolically, "did you presume to fathom the power of Ainz Ooal Gown?"

The NPCs returned their focus to the mirthful, yet expressionless overlord. Sebas was at a loss for words, his face a mask of shame. Albedo, meanwhile, panically attempted to say something, anything, only to trip over her own words.

"N-sor-ple-forg… Forgive our transgression, Ainz Ooal Gown-sama," she entreated. "Ple-"

"Call me Ainz," he allowed magnanimously.

"Yes! Aah, yes, Ainz-sama."

_Heh, she's quite off-kilter. Assuming YGGDRASIL stats carry over into reality, Albedo is truly intelligent, which her actions until this point have confirmed. I doubt that witnessing her this befuddled will become a common occurrence._

_Amusement aside, I should probably give them a break. Sebas appears as though he's on the verge of an aneurysm… if that's even possible._

"It matters not, all is forgiven," he proclaimed, chuckling.

The succubus audibly sighed and collected herself. Sebas, on the other hand, merely recomposed his demeanor silently, the epitome of dignified bearing.

"Thank you, Ainz-sama. We are unworthy of your mercy," he rumbled.

_Well, now I've got brownie points with both of them._

_Sebas Tian is the creation of Touch Me-san. That centurion of cringeworthy righteousness is definitely reflected in the butler's settings, who should respect my honesty and benevolence. Albedo, on the other hand, is a… complicated character. Once she figures out that this whole episode was simply me yanking her chain, she's bound to hold me in higher esteem - for better or for worse._

_The real trouble would stem from how far she goes in questioning my motives. I lack any frame of reference to estimate her true intelligence. Hmm… I, personally, definitely 'feel' smarter and more mentally dextrous, but that may not be representative of a true Level 100 intellect, diluted as I am with my human suppositions and experiences. That succubus, though, she's a wildcard. Ack, I wish I'd read through her settings in more detail…_

_What's done is done. There's no way to go back in time and do things differently, so I'm stuck with what I've got. Unless, of course, I use __**that**_… _No, no, we agreed to save it. I'll need to figure out precisely what is going on before I even think about using it. Well, I should probably respond to Sebas._

"Sebas Tian, you were the first to witness my arrival to this world, and risked standing against me to preserve the integrity of Nazarick. For that alone, you are worthy."

"I am honored," he acceded.

"Albedo, Guardian Overseer, you were the first to accept my mastery of Nazarick, and risked the integrity of the Tomb to support me. For that alone, you are also worthy."

"I am honored," she replied, voice betraying a hint of confusion.

"Ah," Ainz pondered, "that must sound odd. Allow me to explain."

"The Great Tomb of Nazarick and myself are coequal. I could not exist without this marvelous work of my friends, and, equally, Nazarick itself could not exist without me. It is not a choice of which is more valuable, or important; we have been inextricably bound from the moment I apotheosized. Either Ainz Ooal Gown exists, or it does not."

_I think that I just rediscovered divine right. Who knew that the kings of old were just as confused and in the dark as I am, desperately attempting to hold together a house of cards from the moment they get tossed on the throne?_

"I commended you on your actions, regardless of whether your decisions reflected an understanding of this, because you took action to preserve and protect that which you found imperative. Really, neither of you were wrong, anyways, as what you sought to preserve were one and the same."

_Well, as Ancient One-san used to say, "the best bullshit contains a kernel of truth."_

_Anyways, I think I've bought enough time with these two. That last bit will at least keep Albedo's gears turning for quite a while, so… Screw it, let's get going._

"Rise," Ainz commanded. "It is time."

The NPCs artfully stood and made way for the overlord to pass from the Throne of Kings, though he could read the obvious question written on their worshipful faces.

He outstretched a skeletal arm, summoning the _Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown _from its position near the throne, where it had levitated, rotating, since his body had released it some time ago. The helical rods of its celestial ore frame floated gently into his grip.

Raising the staff, Ainz stood, rolling his shoulder blades to loosen and flash his rich academic gown, the sheer fabric automatically repairing rumples and creases from sitting.

He chuckled at the burning curiosity of his NPCs. True, they weren't being particularly obvious, but gone were the human instincts of Suzuki Satoru. Ainz was perceiving the world through the astute mind of an overlord.

"I presume you desire some insight into my mysterious declaration?"

The butler opened his mouth to speak, but Albedo swiftly cut him off.

"Ainz-sama's words are of great interest to those who serve him," she asserted.

Miffed, Sebas absentmindedly stroked the silver of his beard, though he still seemed interested in his answer.

"Of course," Ainz replied, navigating down the flagged steps before the Throne of Kings. "We will travel the breadth of Nazarick, from this floor upwards. I will interview the Floor Guardian of each and inform them of my arrival."

_Assuming World-Class Items function as they did in the game, this room is utterly impregnable to divination or assault. Information of my arrival couldn't have traveled outside; still, caution is king._

"They will join our retinue as we make for the surface."

Albedo cocked her head in confusion.

"Ah, don't you know? I didn't appear here of my own accord. Something summoned me. Something in the world shifted. I know not what awaits us outside Nazarick. Indeed, I know not what awaits us outside this very room."

_The best bullshit contains a kernel of truth._

"I will tell you something," Ainz softly intoned. "A secret, information that is not to be redistributed outside of this conversation. I have experienced manipulation before. In fact, my entire existence was once subject to others' whims."

The NPCs stared at him, aghast.

"I will tell you something else: I cannot abide by fools who would dare to attempt it again. I am not the being I once was, and all who would dare trifle with Ainz Ooal Gown will come to know the true meaning of dread."

They dropped to their knees in genuflection.

"We will carry this beyond the grave," Sebas solemnly declared.

Ainz looked to Albedo, who nodded vigorously.

"Very well," he said. "Rise."

The overlord set out towards the grand bronze doors of the Throne Room.

"Now, prepare yourselves, and follow me - before discovering the nature of my adversary, we must ascertain if there are enemies in our midst."


	7. VOL1 - Chapter 1, Part 5

Part 5 - An Unexpected Visitor

* * *

"So?"

Tsaindorcus Vaison's old friend was in an unusually tense mood. His former companion from the Thirteen Heroes was normally a lighthearted spirit, but her discovery had set her on edge - and rightfully so.

He warily eyed the unconscious creature reposed on her [Floating Board]. Though the unclothed body was clearly humanoid - it had the proper physical anatomy - its skin was of a shocking blue hue, and the facial structure wasn't _quite _human. In near-darkness, it might even be able to pass itself off as normal.

"You were right to bring it to me," the dragon lord confirmed in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"Come off it, what's that supposed to mean," Rigrit admonished, masking her apprehension with a weak grin. "We both know that you're not the type to beat around the bush."

"Perhaps," he acceded with a chuckle. "As to this creature - it is unlike anything I have ever seen."

"Could it be some experiment of the Slane Theocracy?"

Tsaindorcus Vaison raised his majestic head in thought, absentmindedly surveying his hoard in the grand hall of the Floating Castle Eryuentiu.

"Probably not. Their magic only destroys; it cannot create. One of my less scrupulous kin may have mutilated a humanoid creature, but to abandon their handiwork in this desert without my knowledge would be beyond them. I fear, rather, that this is a soul cast adrift."

"You mean…"

The former adventurer brought a knuckle to her chin.

"The world isn't ready, not yet…" she muttered. "This one was already weakened by the sands when I encountered him. [Enervation] and [Sleep] put him out, as you see, but who knows what others are out there?"

"A troublesome prospect, indeed… What of that girl?"

"Oh, she's around," Rigrit chuckled. "Causing trouble for somebody, most likely."

"Surprising," he yawned. "Keep her close."

"Like a farmer watches the sky," she swore.

"...Of course. You never change, do you?"

Rigrit burst out in the throaty laugh of an aging woman.

"I would say the same, but you're on such a different scale, you know?"

Huffing, the dragon lord lowered his head and pensively gazed at her with a sidelong eye.

"What of his equipment?"

Her face growing troubled once again, she waved her hand, beckoning from the shadows.

Another two translucent instances of [Floating Board] drifted forward. The first bore a unique set of clothing. Arranged as though they were being worn were a decorated white tunic with matching pants, a wide belt, high-cut black boots, and, piled to the side, several tight-fitting undergarments.

The tunic was a feature of some interest. It sported twin golden epaulettes, as well as a placard of curious colored squares over the left breast region. Four odd implements were secured in pockets to either side of the torso. An unfamiliar eye might claim it to be in the style of the Re-Estize Kingdom's nobility, but that relation was tenuous at best.

No, it was more likely that separate cultures merely converged upon the most efficient design of hierarchical clothing. While the Platinum Dragon Lord was perhaps the most entangled in human life of all his kin, there were some things that he would never understand - arbitrary hierarchies being one of them…

The second board, though, was more concerning. It carried nothing more than a small metal cylinder - likely a magic item - and a rather singular handheld object. For a creature from the other place to carry nothing more than those two implements, they must be quite dangerous.

The unidentified object appeared to feature a trigger mechanism constructed into a humanoid grip. It was obviously a weapon of some sort; perhaps it could discharge a small bolt, like a crossbow? Such an easily-concealed weapon was insidious, and almost as concerning as the obvious fact that the creature carried no spare ammunition. This implied that the weapon spelled guaranteed death, or at least incapacitation, and that the creature was so confident in their ability that they wouldn't even consider their own error.

"What power do they possess?"

The beings not native to this world invariably equipped themselves with clothing, armor, materials, items, and weapons with inherent magical properties. The quality of an individual's gear would serve as a rough estimate of their own power.

"I don't know. I headed straight to you after subduing him."

"Well, do check."

"Of course."

Rigrit beckoned the clothing board to be in front of her, and raised her hands over the tunic.

"**[Appraisal Magic Item]**."

Threads of green light traced themselves through the wrinkled lines of her palm, dripping down to the white fabric like marionette strings. The tunic glowed dimly for a moment, before the light faded into nothingness. She quirked an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

Tsaindorcus turned his full attention to his companion.

"No enchantments?"

"No, nothing. No magic, no ability boosts, no special effects, not even the possibility for applying any of them. Wait… **[Detect Magic Item]**."

Rigrit peered intently at each of the creature's articles in turn, beginning with the clothing, then turning to the objects, growing more dismayed every moment.

"No… No… Not this one… None, none of them a-"

As she faced the dragon lord again, her eyes were immediately attracted to the blue creature. To her eyes, its entire body was cloaked in a wispy aurora of colors, slowly rising from its unconscious form to lick towards the ceiling. The phenomenon was remarkably similar to descriptions of [Mana Essence], but that spell was outside her repertoire.

Noticing her surprise, he hummed his curiosity.

"It… It's enchanted."

"His body?"

"I don't know," she said, walking over to the creature. Raising her hands once again, she intoned her spell. "**[Appraisal Magic Item]**."

As the threads of emerald radiance descended from her hands once again, the creature awoke, its shocking vermilion eyes rapidly focusing on Rigrit.

Stunned, she broke concentration, and the light faded. To awaken from magically-induced sleep so quickly, and reflect such cognizant awareness… She backed away several paces, and glanced meaningfully at the Dragon Lord.

The alert creature instantly followed her gaze, and noticed the suddenly menacing Platinum Dragon Lord hanging over it. It cleared its throat, and carefully spoke in a raspy voice that reflected its wanderings in the desert.

"Can. You. Understand. Me?"


End file.
